


Chroma Dolls

by Kyu_Momo



Series: Memoria-Verse [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Avengers, BAMF Tony Stark, Dark, Demons, Demons Are Assholes, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual relationship, Fighting Supernatural elements in secret, Horror, Hurt Tony, M/M, Monsters, Morbid Humor, Other Worlds, PTSD, Past Torture, Protective Avengers, Protective Tony, Realm Hopping, Supernatural Elements, Tony still has a secret, Tony-centric, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4245135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyu_Momo/pseuds/Kyu_Momo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony still has a secret.</p><p>The supernatural attacks on him are suddenly becoming even more relentless and brutal and between Tony’s working on Avenger duties as Iron Man and saving the world,  working on new projects for Shield,  keeping all their tech up to date, and not to mention keeping his own business afloat,  Tony is finding it harder and harder to keep it that way.</p><p>Memoria-verse.  Branch-off fic. TT-ish elements. It might help to read Memoria first.</p><p>Note: Not a sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In my honest opinion, this song:
> 
> Icon for Hire - Hope of Morning
> 
> fits this fic's version of Tony Stark perfectly.  
> Icon for Hire FTW. <3

 

* * *

 

 

God...  If only he could tell Fury just _where_ the man could stick his precious SHIELD Public-Relations-stunt-of-the-month.  Tony wished, oh how he wished, he could just break the façade already. To tell them the truth: that he _hated_ parties now with every fibre of his being and all the gossiping and publicity and the sheer fucking _noise_ that always came with them.

 

Fourth of July. Avengers attendance mandatory. Party it up and suck it up, Stark.

 

And to think that once upon a time, Tony had been able to live and act out this high-life effortlessly and without even having to think about it... all the while dripping charisma and crowd-mingling and flirting and wrangling business as if it were as easy as breathing.

It’s _hard work_ now and Tony has to throw all his energy into keeping his mask constantly intact, his senses alert... and frankly, after all this time,  it’s now _beyond_ exhausting.

 

The last week had been especially obnoxious.

 

There was a shitload of security tweaks, projects, maintenance, and paperwork that Tony had just finally managed to cram in and finish when, without a moment of rest, a new situation arose that called for the Avengers’ attention. Iron Man hadn’t been damaged too much in the ensuing battle but that still meant extra repairs, even more paperwork, and long stint of being lectured in the debrief meeting.

 

As it was, Tony was just barely running on stale coffee and excess fumes.

The urge to just give in and collapse was near overwhelming at times but Tony blinked and adjusted and forced the darkness blurring his vision to not overtake him.

 

Business as usual.  No big deal.  He’d been doing this for too long to throw in the towel now.

 

So, Tony did his best to _act._

Because he’d be damned before he let these brainless, noisy fools see it for what it was.

 

* * *

 

 

The Fourth of July celebration was well underway and the rabid mass of media gabbing and flashing cameras were in full effect when Tony almost sloshed his expensive glass of non-alchoholic beverage all over himself... (and wouldn’t that have been just a brilliant  newspaper headline to wake up to?)

 

The sensation had come as it usually did: fast, searing, without warning... and even after all this time Tony still  had trouble keeping his mouth shut and his expression neutral. But by now, swallowing back bile and fighting off the fear was second nature;Tony was already weaving through the crowd, all false calm and dutiful host as he looked for a quick exit. 

 

The beginning phase of taint was already starting and Tony could already see the tell-tale sign of black veins creeping downward through walls with crackling energy coursing through every inanimate substance within reach: chairs, floors, ceiling, everything except the people.  The people here were safe. It was Tony they were after.

 

The accompanying waves of vision-blurring miasma stung his eyes but he blinked it back and kept pace.

 

Damn it, the timing could not have been worse and Tony wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it to an exit without attracting too much attention.

The creatures were phasing him. And fast. Much faster than usual... which could only mean that there were a _lot_ of them this time.

 

Phasing was a term Tony had made up to explain the phenomenon. The creatures were forcing strands of their power into the real world and once they had  flooded enough of it around him then they could trap him into a miniature dimension with them. A portable hunting ground, as it were. Tony would be trapped there, out of his element, and no matter how much time the battle within took, only one second in his real-world-time would pass.

 

Fatigue be damned, Tony quickened his pace as much as he dared to.

 

As he liked to say, this wasn’t his first rodeo.  Tony was relatively used to this shit by now.  But he sure as hell was not used to this happening during such a large public gathering when he was _this_ run-down.

 

_Suck it up, Stark._

 

Tony’s first experience with these things was still something he couldn’t quite bring himself to think of too much, the mental scars were still too fresh.  Long story short, he had been trapped in a nightmare world for five years and all the while he had been helpless to do anything about it. Until the thing in charge, Chime, as Tony had started calling it, had been a little too cocky and due to that arrogance an _accident had_ happened.

 

The accident might have given Tony a new ‘power’ of sorts, but he was not superhuman; he never came out of these otherworldly fights unscathed.

 

Bottom line? Location was important.  If Tony was going to collapse, and he usually did,  he’d damn well make sure it would be in a secluded area away from prying eyes and irritating questions.

 

Of course, Tony’s marvelous streak of bad luck chose that inopportune moment to collide with him.

 

Literally.

 

“Oof...!” Or to be more precise, _Tony_ had collided with the man’s back. 

Captain America didn’t even need so much as a step forward to regain his balance, the man was already turning around to give Tony a withering stare.

 

_Dammit, dammit, dammit!_

He could hear the chittering now. A few gurgling Chirps.

 

“Ah. Hm." Tony murmured, "fancy meeting you here, Cap.”

“...Stark.”

 

Giggling clicks. Scraping claws.

 

“Right then.” Tony cleared his throat.

 

Fog. Dark.

 

He couldn’t even begin to form a witty retort.  Some lewd excuse that Steve would roll his eyes at and go back to ignoring him for... Anything. But Tony couldn’t even bring himself try...

God, he was so _tired_...

 

“I’ll just be... going.” Tony blinked back spots.  “Now.”

“Stark... Honestly what-”

 

That damned eerie bell tolled.

 

“...Going now.”

“Can’t you be serious for once in-“

 

A guttural roar.

Just how many of them were there?!

 

Tony was walking.

Breathing.

 

In.

Out.

 

“Oh so, you run into me and now you’re just going to ignore me? Really, Stark? Would an apology kill you?"

 

Panic was not an option.

It was NOT an option.

 

“What is your p-“

 

_I don’t have time for this._

 

But time had already run out...

The world he knew melted around him, stripped away and replaced with the coiling dark of inky, malevolent shadows. The glowing red eyes of the preternatural horrors lurking within suddenly appeared one by one and all around.

 

Panic was never an option... but oh how it clawed at his throat right that second. He had never seen _so many of them..._

Exhaustion.  Fear. Panic. Despair.

 

 

_Suck it up, Stark._

_Here they come..._

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5/7/2016 - Changed some dialogue and added a few other little bits. Felt kind of tacked on and rushed, so I toned it down. There's too much ground that has been covered off-screen so that stuff can wait for later. All in good time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd. I'll re-read this a few times tomorrow and see if I can spot any errors. I suck at grammar. Fair warning! :3  
> Also, I'm not too happy with this chapter. Feels too...sappy, for lack of a better word. Ah well. The badassery can come later. >:)

Steve was still a little uncomfortable with these crowded, public events.  The Fourth of July event was in full swing already and Steve found himself at a refreshment stand in full uniform. He chose a spot nearest to one of the large, full-panel glass windows so that he could greet guests while still seeing the beautiful fireworks display. The skyscraper also had a large balcony for viewers, but Steve opted to be in the thick of it. As much as he would have preferred to have his back to a wall this was also a part of his duty, after all the Fourth of July was an important holiday for the American people.  And to be honest, Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself at least a little.

Taking in all details might as well have been a reflex by now. He wouldn’t be much of a tactician if he couldn’t observe and take note of his surroundings after all. Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton were both mingling and conversing with the upper echelon. Neither of them looked the least bit strained. Romanov met his gaze for what felt like a split second, giving him an appraising stare in return before raising a brow, lips quirking slightly.  Steve blinked, shrugged, and the second had passed. Sometimes, Steve couldn’t help but wonder how the two operatives both managed to look so at ease and yet still so alert. Steve could always manage the ‘alert’ part easily, but the ‘at ease’ part?  Not so much. Steve was starting to doubt he’d ever be able to be completely comfortable with Public Relations and the general media.

Thor was with Jane Foster, his girlfriend, and having a grand old time by the look of it. Steve felt a smile tug at his lips when he heard a booming declaration of, “Come, dearest Jane, and let us partake on these July and fourth delights!” And Dr. Foster was shushing him while trying not to laugh and managing to get out a, ‘Shh! Not so loud.” before giving up and dissolving into laughter at Thor’s enthusiasm.

Bruce Banner was managing very well and was on his ‘best behavior’ as the man would say. Steve was a lot more comfortable around the man now, knew that he could trust him. Either way they had plans in place in case Dr. Banner needed to leave quickly, just in case.  Bruce Banner would have never attended one of these functions to begin with unless they had a fail-safe and Stark assured him he’d see to the security details as well, and that had been that. Speaking of which...  Tony Stark.

Steve frowned in distaste when he saw the man.  He was flirting with a blonde reporter by the look of it and generally being loud and obnoxious.  _Of course_ Stark wouldn’t care a fig about the meaning behind this event.  This was just what the Avengers needed, another PR disaster with that man’s name on it. Fury had already given Stark the riot act but did the man listen and follow orders?  Of course not! Stubborn... Selfish...

Steve found himself looking away and turning towards the table to keep the anger down, and distracting himself by sipping some more of his sparkling cider helped a little bit too. Steve still didn’t know what it was about the man that got under his skin so easily but one thing was for sure, after all this time, Steve still didn’t understand him. And Stark’s rampant mockery of Steve’s past and his authority as Captain America, the veiled insults, the attitude... well that certainly hadn’t helped Steve’s opinion of the billionaire either.

And it was in a flash of typical timing, really, when the man himself decided to ruin the evening further by colliding with him just as Steve had gotten a handle on his emotions.

Clenching his jaw, Steve turned to stare at him, trying to keep the active distaste out of his gaze and voice.

 

“Ah. Hm. Fancy meeting you here, Cap.”

“...Stark.”

Stark rasped, blinking rapidly.

_Good God, the man was drunk!_

As if his opinion of the man could actually get any worse, Anthony Edward Stark of course, manages once again to beat back the odds.

Steve swallowed and counted to ten slowly in his mind.

He would _not_ make a scene, no matter how irresponsible or immature the other was acting; he would not give Stark that satisfaction of knowing that he was getting under his skin so easily again.

 

Except nothing happened.  No flirting.  No insults. No trademark ‘snark-then-rambling’ --in that order.

Stark turned without an apology or so much as another glance and then walked away.

What?

The man was walking straight enough, a bit unsteady, sure but the genius was not stumbling.  He even was giving nods to a few of the business men that greeted him along the way.

Stark had ignored him?  Of all the childish...

 

Ok, Steve had to admit it now, he _was_ angry and he couldn’t even manage to count to ten. Also... his temper was rapidly rising.  Honestly, what _was_ it about the man that always made him see red so easily, etiquette and protocol be damned? 

Well, then...  Two could play that game.

 

Steve followed him. Called his name softly a few times, he knew the man was stubbornly ignoring him, knew that he could hear Steve. Surprisingly he wasn’t getting much attention from the crowd. No one was looking anymore. Well, good, because really now, this kind of behavior was unacceptable from a member of a group of _Heroes_ and it _needed to stop_. If Steve had to corner him tonight and raise his voice a bit to get that through to him, finally, then so be it.

The man hadn’t stopped.

Oh for... Enough was enough!  He grabbed Tony’s arm, not as roughly as he wanted to, hopefully.  Okay, maybe he wasn’t as calm as he wanted to be.

“Stark... Honestly what had that been about?”  Steve was surprised he managed to keep his voice even and calm.

“...Going now.”

 

Okay... the mixed signals were becoming very confusing.  Was Tony Stark drunk... or not?

“Oh so, you run into me and now you’re just going to ignore me? Really, Stark? Would an apology kill you?"

Tony weakly escaped Steve’s grasp, stumbled a bit, probably wasn’t expecting how easily Steve had let go... But then he was walking again. _Still_ ignoring him and pretending Steve wasn’t there.

They were already at the back hallway now. The realization of it didn’t quite hit him then at just _how_ fast Tony had been walking.

Tony was heading for the bathroom and quickly entered it once he reached the door. Maybe the billionaire was drunk after all?

A sound abruptly hit Steve’s ears. It sounded suspiciously like a sob at first but then after a few seconds Steve realized the man was _giggling_. 

 

So he _was_ drunk!

_That does it._

Steve shoved the door and went in after him.

“Can’t you be serious for once in your life! What is your p-“

Stark was huddled, trembling violently in the corner, head in his hands, and rocking himself back and forth.

The shock of that sight was enough for Steve to bite his tongue and swallow thickly.

_Hurt, guilt, pain at seeing a teammate like this..._

Anger returned as quickly as it had fled when Steve remembered that, no this wasn’t Steve’s fault and he had no reason to feel bad for this man, it was the _alcohol_ that had caused this scene before him because the man-child had imbibed irresponsibly and _that was all._   He stalked forward and grabbed Stark’s shirt, pulling him forward harshly.

The world went away for a while, in that exact moment.

 

* * *

 

There was no warning at all. The feeling coiled in him slowly, so much _**unease**_ that Steve felt himself beginning to shake and _tremble_ with it. In the back of his mind all of his serum-honed senses were screaming at him that, oh God, _something was wrong_ and this _was all a lie and he **knew that** but he couldn’t figure out **why**_ exactly it was a lie  _and that alone was as dangerous as the evil that was attacking his senses right now and it was **right there, staring at him**_ from inside his own mind _, so why the hell couldn’t he move?!_

It came and it stayed and everything was suddenly too much to endure. Nerves were on fire,  skin prickled, it was so dark and cold and everything felt like fire and ice. Everything around him was quaking and the walls were cracking, and bone-deep _terror_ clawed at his throat and it was all Steve could do to keep himself from screaming. Everything came rushing at him and he just couldn’t handle it all, the scenes being thrown at him—Peggy, Bucky's eyes as he fell to his death, the crash, ice, so much cold, waking up, all those years he lost, everything had been taken from him--was any of this even worth it---

 

* * *

 

 

The next moment was literally an-eye-blink away and strangely it only took that much time for Steve to realize that Tony had shoved him away. “D-don’t touch me...”

Steve couldn’t stop the embarrassment from rushing to his cheeks and covering a hand over them to boot.

What on earth had come over him?

Confusion and embarrassment collided and made him feel even more so when Tony was stumbling to his feet and trembling against the wall, staring at him as if he were crazy.

And of course his own mouth wasn’t helping him either. “Are you drunk?”

Stark raised an eyebrow, but something like hurt briefly flashed through his eyes.  “...So” Stark exhaled. “You followed me because you thought I was... drunk?”

Steve stood as quickly as he could and brushed himself off. Damned embarrassment!

 

“Aren’t you?”  Damned mouth! 

He braced himself for the scorn. For the mocking. It would make it easier to get over the sheer _awkwardness_ of this moment and the knowledge that The Obnoxious Rich Man would surely never let him live this down...

And yet Tony hadn’t even responded.  He was just staring at him, eyes wide and with emotions actually warring through his eyes. Steve felt his breath hitch.

 

Those eyes.  Steve had never really looked at them before, he realized. For once there was _emotion_ there, emotions that  _Steve could read._

Why did the man look so hurt? So exhausted that he just wanted it all to end?

Why did Steve suddenly feel so guilty? And confused? Shouldn’t he be angry still? Stark was... No. No he wasn’t.

Was that self-hatred? Despair? Loneliness. Embarrassment... _Terror_? Why was he so afraid? And of what? That was pain... and it wasn’t just the emotional kind...  Crap--Stark was wounded! A sitrep...

“Stop it! Stop it, Goddamn you!” Stark shouted and then turned explosively and covered his eyes

 

Good God.

Stop what?

What the hell was going on?!

 

“You’re not drunk...”

Tony just let out a mirthless chuckle, glaring at the floor.  “Nah. Sure, I am.  Let’s go with that.”

“But you’re _not_ drunk.” It wasn’t a question this time.

“Then how about high?  Mm. Yes." Tony grunted. "I’m high. Let’s go with that then.”

But Steve knows that he’s lying. _There are wounds and the pain is getting to be too much. He’s really embarrassed that you found him. He didn’t want you guys to know. But a part of him is also a tiny bit relieved._

“Stop it!”

_He’s really worried that you’re going to call the others now... But he needs medical attention... and he’s really tired, He’s been so overworked and we’ve been so blind and haven’t realized it, not that Tony minds of course, he does kind of prefer it that way but--_

“Stop...” Stark moaned, grasping at his head in exasperation. “Ugh... Just stop already.”

Hmm. Steve frowned, so confused but understanding so much.

“Tony, you’re wounded and you need help. I understand it all now...”

“The hell you do! That’s just the Miasma talking!” Stark coughed up a few trickles of red. That was very bad... The wounds weren’t going to heal themselves, right? He needed to call-

“No! No! I don’t need... I can’t... Goddamn it why did you have to follow me? Dammit all, Steve... Please just.... I don’t want to hurt you.”

But Tony’s the one that’s so hurt right now, so much so that he wants to cry. He feels so guilty for getting Steve involved... But it also hurts because he thought maybe you, Steve, had followed him because you were _worried_ , but it turned out you were only thinking the worst of him like you usually do, and sure Tony is used to that by now... but he was trying... _so hard_ to do right by you...

“God, enough already! I can’t handle this right now. Please, just _stop_.”

“Tony, it’s okay. I _understand_ now. And it’s wonderful. They are helping me understand you. I’ve been very bad to you... We all have and I’m so sorry that I failed you. We will all pay for it, I promise. No, baby...You don’t need to cry. Shhh, please don’t cry. Of _course_ I would hold you. Of course I would.  I don’t think _that_ badly of you.”

“Enough... stop..." Tony struggled despite knowing he wouldn't be able to budge no matter how long he tried.  "Fucking bastards... I’ll kill you all for this. ”

Steve was so confused and yet he understood.  Everything was still dark but he understood.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Steve whispered.  “You wanted our approval... You wanted _my_ approval? You tried and yet we always clashed and you worried it was a lost cause and that your father was correct in his assumptions. I respect you too, Tony. Perhaps, with enough time, I could even grow to _love_ you now.”

 Stark seemed upset?  The man's eyes were wet but Steve couldn't quite grasp why. “Don’t you dare make him lie, you son of a bitch!”

“Oh, you would actually prefer the truth, then? Very well." It sneered, voice still cloaked by Steve's. "I could never love you. No one will ever love you. None of the living will ever try to understand you, because you're a broken screw-up, and they don’t care enough to break through your walls or put up with your shit long enough to notice them."

"Your experience with us and one of our sentinels has corrupted you forever. None of your ilk will ever be able to see you except as the twisted creature you truly are. And I-” Steve felt his hand move to rest over his heart. The action laced with a mocking cruelty that had no place in such an action.  “--Will _never_ see you as anything except your mask. You _want_ me to see you as your mask, so really now, boy. what seems to be the problem? But Fear not, child for all is not lost.  Once I learn the truth I will see you for what you are, because I am righteous.  I am everything that this tiny little planet needs and we certainly do not need a _mistake_ like _you_.”

Steve had never seen Tony cry until now. Why was the man showing him such unguarded weakness? Did something bad happen?

“Bastards...!”

Steve felt his hand press into a wound and Tony choked on a scream.

“Just give in already, boy. Please? For _me_?” 

A hand swung at his face and Steve caught it effortlessly, and then the other fist. Why was he being attacked by Stark?

He held both wrists in one powerful hand and slammed them down above his captive's head before he dug into another wound, twisting this time.

Tony didn’t scream.

“Steve... Cap." Tony panted. "Please... don’t...”

“It hurts us to see you like this... Why do you still fight?  Why do you kill us? We only want what is best for you. These fools will never see you for what you are. Brilliant. Useful. Important. _Join us_. Your race will never love a monster.  But we will. _We_ will love you. _Cherish_ you. Why do you yet refuse us...? You suffer needlessly.”

“You think I don’t see right through all your bullshit by now?” Tony was fighting back more tears of pain but his eyes were like fire. “You freaks are just pissed off that a _mere mortal_ was able to kill one of your sentinels by a fluke. You know how I did it?  Because she was fucking arrogant and I outsmarted her. You’re _livid_ that the stupid bitch not only got kicked off by an ant, but accidentally gave that ant ALL her power while she was at it and then some. Yes, you twisted fuck, I'm immune to your blight now, I can fight you, and I have been! I will keep right on fighting you. No matter what it takes I won't stop until I've killed as many of you as I can!"

The hand twisted and turned.  Tony did scream this time.

Rage? There was so much rage all of a sudden and Steve had no idea what Tony had done to provoke it.  Steve usually had more control than this...

He felt himself lowering towards his captive, heated breath tickling the man's nape; a free hand trailing upwards to cup at a bleeding hairline, the touch gentle, caressing.

“Oh, Tony. Yes... Poor, sweet, deluded fool.  You have become our equal. Don’t you see?  You cannot hide from us anymore. You are _precious_ to us now and we _need_ you. Why do you make us hurt you so? Your suffering makes us _weep_... Please child... Please... be ours... We need you." Steve felt his hand slide and curl as it weaved through the weeping blood. "Won't you join us? Family is such a precious thing. Rejoin your family, dear one...”

His hands gripped sharply and tugged and Tony couldn't stop the gasp that escaped his lips.

Steve was so confused... Fight it?  Fight what? Why was he hurting Tony?

“Steve... stop-- Guh!”

“Shhh.... Hush child. Make this easy on yourself.”

“Steve... I’m sorry... I’m sorry that I’m a coward. I don’t want to hurt you! ...but I can't—“

Why was he hurting Stark so much?

“I can’t let them win. I can’t! I’m so sorry... If only I...”

What was going on? Steve felt so hot... It hurt and his blood was boiling... It hurt so much!

“Dammit... I’m sorry, Cap... I’m so sorry. I know it hurts... Shhh... I know... I’m _so_ sorry..." Tony choked. 

Honestly... This was so confusing. Why was Tony crying so much?  It was really awkward. And Tony’s eyes were red now? They were bright and shining and red... and Steve’s vision was going red too and the dark was being surrounded and smothered but it _hurt_....  His blood _hurt_. It was boiling beneath his skin...  Everything hurt! It hurt so much!

“You will be ours!  You WILL join us!”

“... Shh...  Shh... I know it hurts... I know... It’s all gonna be okay, Steve...”

And then everything went completely red and, true to his word, it was  _all okay again._

 

* * *

 

Tony wiped furiously at his face.  _God, what if one of the reporters sees this..._ Tony was so tired... Caring about anything right now was just as exhausting as breathing was becoming so how was he still doing it?

Desperately, Tony touched Steve’s neck. Tony’s hands, hell his whole body was still shaking, trembling as he searched for a pulse...  _Please... Please don’t be dead... please... Don’t tell me I murdered you...._

God, yes...there was a pulse! Tony fought back bile and pain and relief and just.. everything.

Tony hadn’t killed him, Steve was going to be okay, Tony had destroyed the Miasma in his veins, and Steve was safe now... He wouldn’t remember and he’d probably be tired, disoriented and confused for a few days... but he was _alive._

 

To be honest, Tony had no idea how he was still conscious when they came. It felt like forever but it had only been a few minutes, most likely. Still, not even Captain America was conscious when they came. That felt unfair somehow... that Tony was winning right now. Captain America should always be the winner.

Suddenly Romanov was in his face, demanding answers, because of course she would be the first one to realize that something was wrong...  Then Clint was there... Then Bruce and Thor were there, Bruce quickly gesturing and in his face, calculating and calm. How was Tony even sitting up?  He had no strength left. How he was even still moving, still existing here? He had no idea.

They were talking, asking questions, trying to assess and pull and tug and prod but Tony was just done with it. He couldn’t respond even if he wanted to because deep down he knew that _they_ had won this round and he couldn’t stop the tremors of fear and despair.

Could he really keep doing this? Just by the nature of his existing here he had almost gotten Steve killed.

Could he really keep fighting them alone and still keep the others safe at the same time? Of course not!  He had just proved that he _couldn’t_.  

They were going to win. He was going to be stuck in that dark with them again and he’d be helpless and he’d give in. Tony _knows_ he would give in because he _can’t handle being there again_. He can’t!

Stark hoped to God that the sheer _terror_ he was feeling right then was not showing on his face. God, he couldn’t stop shaking no matter how much he tried and this was all just so _wrong_.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  Steve was supposed to ignore him!  He was supposed to be _safe_.  And now they _knew_....  They knew he had a weakness now.  He had a team of people that he had grown to care about. He had Steve Rogers, the man that he had always admired as a child and wished he could grow up to be like, a man that was still near and constantly at odds with him. Pushing boundaries, breaking all expectations, charismatic, a legacy of perfection that Tony learned had not been exaggerated in the least.

Tony tried to push them away and yet, somehow, they remained.  Tony was not alone and despite his best efforts he had grown to view them as friends. He couldn't quite hold down the yearning that maybe, someday, Steve would think of him as a friend too.

He wished he had enough courage to just admit it to them right now, how much he liked them all. How much he _needed_ them. How much he enjoyed their camaraderie. How much he loved Avenging with them...

No. Of course not.  Tony couldn’t ever quite bring himself to say it plainly and instead he pushed them away even as they remained and he wanted to keep them close and never let them leave.  He was selfish like that.

But it was a good thing, really.  Keeping them all away, especially Steve, that was a  _good_ thing!  It meant he was keeping them safe. Of course, he had screwed that up too. So why did this hurt so much? He had no right to be surprised by this mistake. He had no right to feel this upset over it. This was inevitable. Tony Stark would never stop making mistakes.

Could he really keep doing this?

One part of his brain was yelling at him that, _this is just the pain and fatigue talking and you can do this, you’ve been doing this for years, remember?  So stop being such a drama queen. You just need some sleep and then you can get back to doing your job._

But the other part... it just couldn’t endure this anymore.

_No...  No I can’t... I can’t handle this anymore... I’m not strong enough. I’m not good enough!_

Sadly, the other part was winning.

Back then, something like this would have destroyed him. Tony had been so _arrogant._   Just as arrogant as the Dwellers had been. Even after Afghanistan there had still been so much sickening arrogance...

It all seemed so laughable right now, because, really? Pride just didn’t matter anymore. After today could he really look them all in the eye and say, with certainty, that he had any dignity left? Because he didn’t. The Dwellers and his own cowardice had taken it from him a long time ago.

_Am I even still sane?_

They are winning....  Tony wanted to just give up, to give in, to _rest_.

No! No, he couldn’t... Not after all this.

He would tell them. That was the only way to not give in right now and Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself. Tony would tell Fury... he would tell the Avengers the truth, that he was a monster now.  And now, because of him, the world was probably in more danger from those things than ever before because _now_ they actually cared enough to visit more than they ever had, because of _Tony_.

Tony was a coward.  He was _scared_ of the consequences.  Tony knew he had no right to be scared. He _deserved_ the consequences, whatever they were going to be.

_Suck it up, Stark... They deserve the truth now. You’ve botched this._

Would they... would these people betray him too...? Like Obie had... Like his own father had?

Tony had never given them any reason to like him... Oh, sure he had tried, because he liked these people, but it had never been enough because he had no idea _how_ to show it. If even a saint like Pepper had left him then what hope did he have with anyone else?

Looking at them now... Romanov looked angry... And Tony couldn’t even bear to look at the others.  Were they all angry at him? Did they already know that this was his fault?

Would they hand him over to the Dwellers when they realized that he was all they wanted? Could he really blame them if they did?

Tony lowered his head onto his knees, folded his arms tightly around himself, and began to sob.

No, he really had no pride left. He didn’t even have enough left right now to feel embarrassed for letting his mask break in front of them.

Maybe later... if there even was a later.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell happened in there, people!”

Fury was pacing and being furious. Clint didn’t blame him, sure, but yelling at _them_ wasn’t going to get him any answers.  Oh well.  Clint was thankful for his own poker face, because to be honest he was still reeling.  Never thought he’d see the day when _that man_ would up and cry in front of them ...and that sure as hell was putting it lightly and nowhere _near_ the worst of it.  Truth was, they were all still rattled to the core and Clint figured the rest of the team were asking themselves that same question with just as much anger. What the hell _had_ happened in there and why hadn’t anyone noticed it?

Tony was still in surgery.  Steve had woken up a few hours ago, confused as all hell but lucid enough. Bit dizzy and weak though, so they wanted him to rest and stay overnight just to be sure. Okay, that was putting it a bit too lightly...

 

“What happened?  Is he alright?”  Steve had asked.

It had taken them a long time to calm him down when he had realized that no, Stark, was not alright and they still weren’t sure if he was even going to make it through the night.  Steve had been adamant to recount as much as he could right then and there. To help figure it out because this rattled him too, he hadn’t said that, but Clint knew it anyway because Rogers’ didn’t have a poker face. “I remember following him.  I thought he was drunk at the time and I’ll admit that I was upset about that. He was ignoring me. I... overreacted. But beyond that, I don’t remember.  I’m sorry.”

Tests had been run. No drugs. No alcohol. Clean bill of health. Really?  Then why was the guy still having trouble keeping his eyes open? Well, that was just another question to add to the growing pile.

One of the Doctors had given Fury the stink-eye when he had shown up in medical, but thankfully Steve wasn’t being called on for a briefing. And given that currently, Captain fucking America was still clearly _exhausted, dizzy,_ couldn’t even _stand_ let alone walk (he had tried; it hadn’t gone well) and the serum _still_ hadn’t kicked in? Nope, Clint wasn’t surprised that Fury hadn’t asked it of him. How the hell had that even happened because things like this didn’t happen to Captain America unless there had been one hell of a battle!

Oh right. Another question for the pile.

But really... did they have to have a debriefing _now_? Hell, they didn’t even know if Tony would make it and they were stuck here being lectured!  Clint understood debriefs were necessary but Jesus! Couldn’t they at least wait until they knew the guy would survive? Everyone was restless and clearly wanting to be down there, where a teammate was still possibly _dying_. Another thought suddenly occurred to him. Holy shit... Fury was rattled too, wasn’t he?  Nah. Just... Nah. He was probably just pissed off about the PR stunt this had turned into. Yeah.  That had to be it.

 

Fury let out a loud exhale and began again, “Alright, what _do_ we know?”

Tasha answered, calm, composed, and to the point, as per usual because she was always that awesome. Clint already knew that this had upset her more than she would ever let on. “Around 8:35 PM, Stark headed to one of the rear exits. Rogers followed him.”

“Tony was walking fast. Speedy bathroom break. Nothing unusual there.”  Clint added.

“It was 8:40 when I went to check. Hall was clear. The only two in the bathroom at the time were Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. The Captain’s gloves were bloody and he was unconscious. At a glance and upon further inspection he had no visible injuries. Stark was in the corner, shaking, unresponsive, and, upon further inspection, in need of immediate medical care."

‘Bleeding out’ had been the term that Banner had used.

So, one of the uncomfortable thoughts that Clint had had at the time was wondering if Steve could have actually... Nope. No. But thankfully that had been ruled out pretty quickly. The only bit of Tony’s blood that had been on him had been on Steve’s hands. Stark’s injuries were full-body and the worst were from something deemed “exceedingly sharp.” His signature shield could count as sharp, right?  But Steve hadn’t used his shield. Tony was _alive_ when they got there, after all.

 

  _And he sure as Hell better still be alive, right now._

Oh, and another thing?  They were almost ninety-nine percent sure that Steve Rogers didn’t have fangs. Proof?  Uh... Dental records? Common sense?

One of the more obvious injuries had been a _large_ _bite mark._ Even if Bruce had been able to identify what kind of thing could possibly have a maw of that size in the heat of the moment, it had been obvious to the rest of group that there hadn’t been any grizzly bears attending the party. So if any of those idiots out there even so much as hinted that Captain America had attacked Tony Stark just to _have_ an article to print, Clint might have to get a bit nasty. Surely the populace at large wasn’t that stupid? Clint could hope.

On the other hand, Tony being drunk or hopped-up-on drugs had been quickly ruled out too.  At least they had been around him that long before they were kicked out.

Goddammit... freaking nerves. Dr. Banner had been on the verge of a hulk-out at the time but what he had said then was still ping-ponging back and forth around in Clint’s skull.

_God... How is he even still alive?_

Yeah, no kidding. Another question for the pile.

 

Sometime during that briefing, Clint’s legs had rebelled and he had needed to sit down.  Oh well. So much for the poker face...

Thor was looking ready to bolt. Hah.

Banner was looking a bit green.

Tasha was being Tasha.

And then, at last, news from the Doctors had put a stop to the rest of the facts-exchange. And it was _good news_ too and the relief was so intense it was _palpable_. They were hurrying down there soon after, _because damn it all Tony is their teammate and isn’t going to wake up alone_ , but not before Clint caught the very-brief-sight of Fury giving a sigh of relief and covering his eye hastily with one hand.

_Holy shit..._

_Fury is actually rattled too._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short.

 

Sometimes consciousness really, _really_ felt like a chore.

This was definitely one of those times.

 

Everything was blurry, his throat and mouth felt like raw cotton, and his mind felt disconnected and sluggish...  It took an embarrassing amount of time before Tony realized that he was semi-awake and that this wasn’t another dream.

The other part of his mind was gibbering in terror before it was just as quickly stomped down and quelled.  Even with his mind _this_ sluggish he could still tell the difference between light and dark, and wherever this was had too much fucking light for it to be a Phase. Either that or the Dwellers had suddenly become incompetent and suicidal...  If that was true, then that would be so _very_ amusing and that would make this the _best_ dream ever.

Natasha was the first to notice his eyes being open.  Of course she was. She was kind of blurry though, but Tony thought it was probably her.

Tony tried to smile but couldn’t. His mouth hurt. _Everything_ hurt.

_Tell them._

Ah well.  Pain had never stopped him from trying something risky before.  Tony opened his mouth and tried to speak.

Ow-ow-ow- _oh fuck!--_ Ow...

Okay... that was probably not one of his best ideas.

Tony’s body rebelled from the agony. As a result, everything else got blessedly quiet and stopped for a while.

 

* * *

 

The next bout of consciousness was a tiny bit less irritating.

His vision was less blurry, there was less fog, but his mouth still felt like someone had lined it with wool and paper.

“Tony?”

Uh huh.  Everything still _hurt_ too much.  Not trying to speak again was the best plan Tony had had in a while.

He wasn’t sure who it was though. The cotton had moved from being in his mouth to having been shoved in his ears; sound was muffled.

“Tony?”

He was confident that the ‘whoomp whoomp’ sound was actually just someone saying his name, but he couldn’t be sure.

Tony squinted at them.  Still couldn’t tell who they were...  Things needed to be less blurry already, sheesh.

“Tony...  you need to stay awake for just a minute okay?  We need to get some—“

 _Nah_ , Tony decided, ‘Whoomp whoomp’ was too much effort.

Way too tiring...

Sleeping was better.

 

* * *

 

The next time that he was aware of his surroundings, Tony felt the back of his head being supported and a cup being held up to his lips. Tony blinked and found his eyes focusing on the blurry cup. At least his eyes were cooperating enough for him to realize that it was, in fact, a plastic cup.

The person holding him was patient, waiting until he was ready before they tilted the cup slightly and the cold liquid trickled into his mouth.

“Drink slowly.”

He did. It took an absurd amount of effort, sure, but being able to finally wash away some of that cotton made it worth the effort.

Whoever it was then slowly lowered him back to the fluffy thing behind him that was keeping his head up. Tony sank down gratefully, exhausted.

“How is he?”

“Mphh,”  Tony informed them, gravely.

He heard someone snort.

Another voice answered, “I think it’s safe to say that he’s finally-“

“--Lucid?”

 “Uh... I think that’s stretching it a bit, but...”

“Hmph...” Tony objected, albeit weakly.

 “Go back to sleep, Tony.”

 

* * *

 

Okay, the drugs they had him on?  They were the good stuff.

Tony felt a bit like he was floating.

However, a new kind of irritant made itself known and the drug-induced haze wasn’t enough to curb it.

_What the fuck was he supposed to do now?_

He had decided he was going to tell them.  Great.

But how?!

The _what ifs_ were driving his thoughts into twisted knots that kept right on going full-circle.

Where would he even start?

_Hi, I’m Tony stark. I was abducted 5 years ago  by demons and dragged into their self-created-demon-world to be tortured and fed on, but hey, none of you knew I was gone because it only lasted a second of earth-time!  Isn’t that just dandy? Oh and since their arrogant leader tried to kamikaze me to death but failed miserably cause she was dumb, and I actually, you know, **lived through it,** absorbed her power and killed **her** with it instead, I’ve painted a giant neon bull’s-eye on Earth with my name on it. _

Three more years of Phasing assaults after that with SHIELD still none the wiser because Tony had, for once,  kept his mouth shut.

Shit... a small part of him had hoped they’d have figured out he was hiding something by now...

No such luck.

Fury was going to blow a gasket or have one-eyed kittens...  Or both.

 

Tony _liked_ these people.  He had known them for years.

And here’s where the terror took over:  What if they didn’t believe him?  What if they _did_ believe him but then turned on him? What if he was handed over to the Dwellers to keep Earth’s population safe?

That last thought is where it boiled over.

_He’d rather die.  He would kill himself if it ever came to that...._

Stark men are made of iron? Pfft. Daddy-dearest wouldn’t have lasted a _minute_ in that shithole.

So why did Tony _still_ feel the need crawl and claw his way just to cling to that impossible standard?!

_What if, what if, what if..._

Tony couldn’t handle this.

He wasn’t even sure how had he had handled it for as long as he had....

He really _could not handle this anymore._

_What if, what if, what if..._

 

* * *

 

Tony wasn’t sure who it was.

His vision had long since cleared up but he wasn’t really seeing them, wasn’t really hearing them.

Was he still drugged to the gills?

Did it matter?

Thoughts needed to stop going in circles and Tony needed to stop them all now before he spiraled too far off the deep end!

_A little bit late for that now, isn’t it?_

There were people in the room with him and that was good enough. They had to be _someone_ he personally knew because who else would bother to be here in this hospital room, waiting on him?

It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He was going insane either way.

“What would you do...If I told you that five years  had passed for me in the blink of an eye and that none of you had realized it?”  Tony voice was hoarse and raspy.

“I already knew you were certifiable, Stark.”

Whose voice was that?

His head was lifted and Tony felt water being coaxed down his throat. It was still an exhausting amount of effort.

“I lost five years...” Tony murmured. “But they still won’t leave me alone.”

“Who?”

“The... demons,” Tony huffed a laugh.  “Hah...  You know how stupid and insane that sounds out loud?” Even laughing _hurt._ “You know how frustrating it is to admit that they are real?  I wish I could pretend they weren’t real!  Fucking demons... Fucking magic!” 

This was too easy...  Even as run-down as he was, Tony felt that he shouldn’t be able to mention it so easily. How was he saying this like it was nothing?

Tony kept right on talking. Explaining. It took monumental amounts of effort to stay conscious.

Whoever it was didn’t laugh, didn’t speak, or if they did then Tony couldn’t hear it.

Eventually, he couldn’t even dredge up the effort to speak anymore. Tony blinked slowly after the fact, dazed, boneless...

Somewhere, a muted voice... “Sir!”

Wait... What if this was a dream?  He didn’t want to have to say all of this again... it had taken _so much effort..._

Panic shot through him.

Somehow, _somehow_ Tony managed to choke more words out through sheer desperation, “Please... tell me... this isn’t... a dream? Please... don’t let it... be a dream...” Tony had to fight to keep his eyes open.

“Enough,” a gruff voice commanded and Tony realized that he had been struggling and trying to lift himself when a firm hand suddenly grasped his shoulder and pushed him back down. “It’s not a dream.  Get some rest, Stark.”

 

* * *

 

_Stark men are made of iron._

Somehow that sounded like a compliment this time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this is going.  
> Not sure what I'll do next either. I have my notes... but at this point I have no idea which one I want to weave in or if I'll scrap those and try something else entirely.
> 
> Hope you like it so far.


End file.
